


Safe Harbour

by azurrys



Category: Kamen Rider Amazons (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Families of Choice, Getting Together, Kotatsu, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurrys/pseuds/azurrys
Summary: Three meals that Makoto shares with Fuku, with and without the team.
Relationships: Fukuda Kouta/Shidou Makoto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2
Collections: Eat Drink and Make Merry 2020





	Safe Harbour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/gifts).



Makoto stirs to the aroma of boiling ramen. It's not an unfamiliar smell; he's used to one team member or another making it, and in such a small space the smell of food inevitably permeates it before long. But it's dark enough that he's sure morning isn't here yet, and while it's not unusual for someone to be craving midnight ramen, he still opens his eyes just to check.

He expects to see Kazuya cradling a cup somewhere in the corner, but instead, he's met with the sight of Fuku's back by the upstairs counter. He blinks rapidly, reaching up to rub his eyes, then rolls over to see if the futon to his left is empty. It is.

That really is Fuku, then, and not some product of his half-asleep vision. Of all the members of his team, Fuku is the last person he would have expected — from Kazuya to Mamoru to Ryusuke — to be making instant ramen in the middle of the night. With the job they do, none of them have schedules that come close to being called routines, but Fuku manages to be the most consistent.

He glances at the clock just to be sure. 3:48 AM, which isn't morning by any stretch of the imagination. He's reluctant to leave the warmth of the kotatsu, but checking on a team member is the one reason outside an assignment that'll get him out of bed without protest.

Fuku glances over his shoulder when Makoto walks over, offering him an acknowledging nod as if it's completely normal for him to be making ramen at this hour. Rather than asking him about it, Makoto just says, "You're up early."

He gets a one-shouldered shrug in response. "Couldn't sleep."

Fuku's movements are stiff, his left arm hanging motionless by his side. It's obvious that he's trying not to pull at his still-fresh wounds, which is all the answer that Makoto needs to know why he's awake and making ramen now. He wonders if Fuku slept at all the night before.

Watching as Fuku peels back the cover to check on the ramen, he considers offering to help, but he senses that Fuku would find it more patronising than pleasant. Instead, he watches as Fuku drains the water from the cup, removes the cover and starts shaking in the seasoning and sauces one-handed. All of the packets have been neatly snipped open beforehand. It's not something that Makoto itself would have thought to do if he'd had to do it one-handed, but Fuku always thinks of things that never occur to him.

The only thing he does is hand Fuku the disposable chopsticks after he's done, earning himself a faint smile. The next few moments are quiet while Fuku mixes the flavouring in, the aroma of spice and salt wafting through the air. He sets the chopsticks on top once he's finished, and in the beat of ensuing silence Makoto can see him weighing his options: jamming the chopsticks back into the ramen against the well-worn custom, versus dealing with the awkwardness of balancing them one-handed while he carries it down.

Makoto has an easy solution for that, at least. "I'll help." Before Fuku can say anything, he takes the cup, easily keeping the chopsticks in place with one hand with the other supporting the bottom of the cup. There's a moment of hesitation before Fuku follows him, settling carefully back down next to Makoto at the kotatsu.

"Thank you." Fuku smiles at him again when he accepts the chopsticks for the second time, murmuring a soft ' _itadakimasu_ ' before starting in on the food. Hopefully it's the distraction he needs. Makoto glances back at his futon, wondering if he should try to catch those last few hours of sleep before he has to wake for the day.

"Want some?"

Makoto falters, turning around. A single serving of ramen is hardly going to be a decent meal for a couple of grown men, but Fuku is holding the chopsticks out to him, waiting for his answer.

After a moment, Makoto takes them from him, their fingers brushing briefly.

" _Itadakimasu_."

He keeps it down for the benefit of the rest of the team still asleep around them, slurping up the mouthful as quietly as he can. When he finishes chewing and swallowing, Makoto puts down the chopsticks and raises his head, thanks on the tip of his tongue, but the words don't make it out.

He's caught off-guard by how close Fuku is. Close enough for Makoto to see the flecks of colour in his eyes, even through his glasses. It's the sort of distance that would have made Makoto reel back if it happened with anyone else — another member of his team, his ex-wife, a stranger.

But it's Fuku. So he doesn't.

Fuku is special.

The realisation isn't world-shaking. It slides home like a key into a lock, as if the idea had been made for that gap and was simply waiting for it. It feels natural to Makoto to lean in and close the remaining space between them, and Fuku meets him halfway, as if he'd been waiting for it as well.

The kiss is chaste, just touch and warmth and the gust of Fuku's breath on his lips; comfortable in the same way the moments he shares with Fuku always are. One kiss leads into another as they linger, sharing air and heat, until they hear the sound of blankets shifting opposite them.

"Something smells nice," Kazuya mumbles. "Ramen?"

They part at the same time, settling back side by side. "Make your own." Fuku's answer is short and to-the-point as always. Kazuya makes a would-be pitiful noise, and Makoto sees Fuku's lips curve upwards just a touch.

Kazuya rolls over, and Makoto expects him to go right back to sleep, only for him to suddenly open his eyes again to squint at the ramen cup. "Wait. Is that one of mine?"

"I'll pay you back." Fuku slurps up a mouthful of ramen, and Kazuya sits up bolt-straight.

"Hey! You can't just take someone else's ramen without — "

"Watch your volume. The others are asleep," Makoto interrupts, glancing over at Kazuya. He looks appropriately chastised, but Nozomi is already stirring next to him.

"Too late for that," she mutters, her voice half-muffled under the blankets. "Shut up." Even without Kazuya's visible wince, Makoto had felt Nozomi kicking Kazuya under the kotatsu. Unfortunately, the movement now has Ryusuke blinking his eyes open with a yawn, rolling over.

"Is there food?" he mumbles. "I'm hungry…"

"Food?" Of course that's what gets their Amazon up. Now Mamoru is waking up, bleary gaze wandering as if in search of a target. "Is it time for breakfast already?"

"No, it's not." Makoto glances at the clock again, and he's a little surprised to see that it reads 4:06. Making the ramen can't have taken long. Did he spend that much time kissing Fuku? In lieu of wondering, he turns back to Mamoru, saying, "Unless you want it to be."

"I could use something to eat…" Mamoru is sitting up, and opposite him, Kazuya seems to have given up on sleep as well.

"I'm going to make ramen. Want some, Mamo-chan? Or a hamburger?"

Mamoru's reaction is as instant as always: "I want a hamburger!"

"Shut up, all of you! Some of us want to _sleep_!" Nozomi yells, yanking the blankets over her head, and Kazuya and Mamoru look appropriately chastised. But it's only a second later that Mamoru breaks out into a giggle, and the happiness in his eyes is so evident that it makes Makoto smile. It's amazing that Jun can sleep through this — he's the only one who hasn't so much as twitched.

He feels Fuku shift against him, and when he glances over, Fuku's bent over his ramen again. It must be cold by now, but he doesn't seem to mind. Fuku's eyes flick up to meet his, and as he swallows his mouthful and licks his lips clean, Makoto is sure he sees the hint of a smirk there.

Fuku holds his gaze just a moment too long to be innocent, and even the rising noise level around him can't make Makoto look away. Makoto has realised, by now, that they're not going to talk about the kiss. But he doesn't mind; it's better that way.

Fuku has always been a man of few words, and this isn't the sort of change that they need to talk about for it to be real. It's not the sort of change that they have to tell the team or announce as if it's news. It's just a natural step — not a secret, not a sweeping paradigm shift, but the most comfortable progression he can imagine.

Makoto slides a casual arm around Fuku's waist. Under the kotatsu, their thighs are pressed together, hidden from view. Fuku leans in as naturally as breathing, a comfortable patch of warmth by his side, warmer still where they touch.

* * *

"Obocchama, more meat?"

"Don't call me that! …Yes, please."

"Ha, knew it! Well, that's good anyway, you have to keep up your strength. You too, Mamo-chan, eat a little more."

"Thanks, Misaki-kun!"

"Give me that, you hog. You've had the ladle for fucking ages."

"Wh — Non-chan! Don't grab! There's enough for everyone!"

The team is as rambunctious as always. On one hand, Makoto likes that about them — they're rowdy and unruly at times, but they're a good crowd. On the other, all the noise in the shabu-shabu joint is starting to give Makoto a headache. Even if the team fits right in with that, he's reminded now why they're not the family restaurant type. He should have made them pack up the soup bases and ingredients and cooked this over the kotatsu, but fresh off an unusually smooth assignment, the alluring scent had had all of their members gravitating towards the restaurant on the way back to the van.

Maybe Makoto shouldn't have given and indulged them, but Mamoru had gone and pointed out that they hadn't been to a restaurant together since Haruka joined the team. Even though Makoto still has his doubts about Haruka, with every day that passes and every mission they complete together, Makoto finds those worries fading a little. They're starting to knock his edges off, and Makoto has to admit it's nice to see Mamoru smiling more than usual while his eyes follow Haruka adoringly.

Next to him, Fuku is as quiet as always. Makoto isn't worried that he isn't enjoying himself, though; there's a touch of fondness in his gaze, and even though the team barely notices, Fuku is the one keeping the pot well-stocked. Whenever Kazuya fishes out yet more meat to heap onto everyone's plates, Fuku silently adds more to the pot, and he's the one flagging waiters down to refill the soup when it runs low. It's his way of caring for the team, even if the others don't see it. Makoto does.

It's a silly urge, almost juvenile, but with how many legs there are under the table Makoto knows nobody will notice. Fuku glances over him at him questioningly when Makoto nudges his leg; rather than turning to acknowledge him, Makoto continues staring forward, but he hooks his foot around Fuku's ankle in a silent question.

Fuku goes still against him, and Makoto sees his eyes dart over to the rest of the team, then to the waiters milling around the restaurant and the customers around them. But nobody is looking — they're just another noisy party like everyone else in this place, and nobody in the restaurant is going to be ducking their heads under the tables to count how many feet there are and who they belong to. After a moment, Makoto feels Fuku press back against him, their ankles fitting together.

Hiding a smile behind his bowl of soup, Makoto tries not to think about the undignified little flutter in his chest. He's old enough that this shouldn't be the sort of thing that can make him happy, but there's something so — _nice_ about this mundanity. Being in a restaurant together with his team, next to his partner, with everyone enjoying themselves unreservedly.

So many of Makoto's experiences with family have been fraught with tension. All the awkward outings he'd shared with his ex-wife after they'd passed their honeymoon period and they'd found out that they were irreconcilable in so many ways they'd never expected; the arguments that sprang up constantly between them over the most ridiculous minutiae, conflict that bled over to even the time he spent with his parents. They never had forgiven him for not trying hard enough to 'save' his marriage.

But this… this is nice. The food tastes as good as it had smelled from the outside, his team is coming together in the best way, and his changed relationship with Fuku is somehow still familiar even as they wade deeper into uncharted territory. The trust between them hasn't changed, and they still both look out for the team as they used to before. They share a few more intimate moments, spend more of what little free time they have with each other, but they're still the same in all the ways that matter.

That's all Makoto wants. Right now, more than anything else — they're family.

* * *

The hospital cafeteria is so quiet that Makoto hears the echo of his footsteps against the tiled floor. It's one of those odd afternoon hours between mealtimes, and the only other person there is a lone doctor curled up asleep in the corner with her food next to her. Makoto buys a sandwich from the cold rack, but Fuku orders a full meal. Makoto isn't surprised; it's probably the first meal he's had all day.

It's been a few weeks since they last saw each other — a few weeks since Tlaloc and the dismissal of the team. It feels like it's been an eternity, yet also as if it happened yesterday. Every time Makoto sees the makeshift necklace in a mirror or catches the gleam of light off the coin, he's reminded again of Mamoru's tears and Haruka's fury. Since then, he hasn't tried contacting the rest of the team, and none of them have tried bothering him either.

They all know it'll just reopen the wounds they're trying so hard to seal.

Even so, Fuku hadn't looked surprised when Makoto had turned up. Makoto knows it's because Fuku trusts that he wouldn't have come without a reason, and he's right. It isn't a reason Makoto likes, but it's also one that lights the faintest flicker of hope within him.

For a few moments, they eat in silence, the only sound the clink of Fuku's spoon against the metal tray. Fuku doesn't pressure him to speak, although Makoto is sure he must be curious. After he polishes off one sandwich, he doesn't bother picking the other up. Instead, he reaches inside his jacket.

Sadness flicker across Fuku's face when he withdraws the coin, and he sees Fuku's hand steal up to his chest, fingers pressing against a hidden pendant through his shirt. "An Amazon matching Mamoru's description was sighted," Makoto says. Fuku's head snaps up at the words. "Surveillance has a target location." 

"Where?" Fuku has scarcely asked the question before Makoto pushes the papers over. In the process of locating them, the organisation had the time to write up the sort of thorough, detailed mission brief they never used to get. He waits as Fuku shuffles through the papers quickly, knowing that he's already calculating the fastest route to get there in his mind.

"We still need to pick up Kazuya. It'll be on the way." If Makoto is right about where Kazuya is. But he knows all of his team's usual haunts, and he’s sure Kazuya will be there. While Fuku flips through the information, Makoto finds himself staring at his half-eaten meal. He wonders if Fuku has been eating well in the days since the team broke up — he's sure he looks a little thinner.

"You should eat," he says. The words come out sounding fussier than he expected, and if only to save his dignity, he adds just a little too quickly, "We're expecting resistance. Keep your energy up."

"It's better to be prepared," Fuku agrees, kind enough not to call him out on the nagging. He sets the papers down next to him, going through the rest of the information as he scoops rice into his mouth. Makoto has the feeling that he's no longer even tasting the food — from the unenthusiastic way Fuku had been eating earlier, he'd surmised that it wasn't particularly good, but now Fuku's shovelling it down like he can't get enough of it. 

Makoto almost doesn't want to put a damper on his renewed appetite, but he can't put off what needs to be said. "There may be other survivors… no, there _will_ be. And our orders are — "

He stops, but he doesn't need to finish the sentence. It's the same order as always, this time written in black-and-white, bolded on the very first page.

_Exterminate._

He's sure they've all been struggling with that in the days since Tlaloc. It was as he'd said to Kano: _It just took a little distance for us all to see how fucked up it was_. They had all been clear about putting money over morality when they'd started the job, but in the end, the lines have become blurred.

Amazons and humans — Makoto had never struggled to divide them before, but he does now. It's a question he'll continue considering, that he's not sure he'll ever find a correct answer to. But he knows what he wants to do now; his objective is clear-cut.

They're going to find Mamoru and Haruka again. They may not be heroes, not one of them, but they're family.

There's a pause, then Fuku puts down his spoon. Makoto glances down when he feels warmth covering his hand, surprised. It isn't like Fuku to be openly affectionate in public, and that's never bothered Makoto — he isn't, either. But the touch is a comfort after so long apart. Makoto answers wordlessly by interlacing their fingers, rubbing his thumb over Fuku's.

"We'll do what we have to. I'll follow your lead."

There's no hesitation in Fuku's voice. It's as resolute as his gaze, as steady as his aim in battle. Makoto had always been able to count him in the past, and he still can now.

Makoto doesn't know what to expect from the looming confrontation. Perhaps they'll find Mamoru again; perhaps it'll turn out to be just another extermination, and they'll once again be pushing the boundaries of their morality beyond what they wish to. But Fuku has always stood by him — his safe harbour in the storm.

"What do you want me to do?"

No matter what, even if he loses everyone else, Fuku will still be by his side.

"Let's go," Makoto says. "It's time to get our team back."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [decay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decay) for betaing (especially the second round on short notice) and supporting me until the very last moment <3 Any remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
